Life is NOT a journey to the grave with the goal of arriving safely in a prettily preserved body, but rather to skid in sideways in a shower of gravel and party shards, thoroughly used, utterly exhausted, and loudly proclaiming: "Fuck ME, that was BRILLIANT!"— Saltation (2004)
(revved-up from an earlier quote,
apparently from Hunter S. Thompson)
Sunday, May 30, 2004
Further matured in our private cellars
"That was great. Fancy some wine?"
"You betcha. I think I've still got some blue cheese, I'll go get it."
...
"What's this watery stuff in the bottom of the cheese packet?"
"Eh? Give us a look.
....
Hmmm."
"What's the Use By date?"
"Umm.... 24th of May."
"What!? That can't be right, it's the 30th today."
"Good point. Clearly this Use By date is defective."
"You betcha. I think I've still got some blue cheese, I'll go get it."
...
"What's this watery stuff in the bottom of the cheese packet?"
"Eh? Give us a look.
....
Hmmm."
"What's the Use By date?"
"Umm.... 24th of May."
"What!? That can't be right, it's the 30th today."
"Good point. Clearly this Use By date is defective."
Thursday, May 27, 2004
The Dancin' Dupa
(Where dupa (sp?) is Polish for arse. And I wonder how the lovely pocket tiger is faring now?)
Apparently, for a while yesterday, the happy-go-lucky dancing banana colourising your terror level for YOU, yes YOU, was replaced by a picture of a man with a peculiar bottom. Yes, by way of one of the more amusing chains of random human events, certain of you would have assumed America had gone to red alert. Or possibly had taken a direct hit from something fairly large.
For anyone offended, I apologise and ask that you read the full explanation here.
For anyone amused, I accept full responsibility: it was all my idea.
For anyone who doesn't know goatse, and doesn't mind being introduced to a longstanding internet hilarity of outstanding foulness:
My only regret is that I saw neither it nor any reader's face who did.
Apparently, for a while yesterday, the happy-go-lucky dancing banana colourising your terror level for YOU, yes YOU, was replaced by a picture of a man with a peculiar bottom. Yes, by way of one of the more amusing chains of random human events, certain of you would have assumed America had gone to red alert. Or possibly had taken a direct hit from something fairly large.
For anyone offended, I apologise and ask that you read the full explanation here.
For anyone amused, I accept full responsibility: it was all my idea.
For anyone who doesn't know goatse, and doesn't mind being introduced to a longstanding internet hilarity of outstanding foulness:
From Bash:
Beerman: I demand random linkage! link me to strange things, and entertain me
tate : www.goatse.cx/
ecs : i was just gunna say that...
Beerman: my word, whats wrong with that mans bottom?
My only regret is that I saw neither it nor any reader's face who did.
Ed. : now: http://goat.cx/
A quick laugh's a good laugh
Wednesday, May 26, 2004
A Fresh Start
It's the morning of a morning interview. 2 cups of nostril-flaringly over-spooned spine stiffener but the clouds have not moved from brain to coffee cup. Feeling a little thirsty so I pour some water in a glass then down my throat. Most of a pint disappears in a single involuntary inhalation that's a little surprising until I hear my kidneys shriek for joy at getting some raw material then set to work on the backlog. From deep inside comes a muffled sloshing roar, I lose 2 inches in height, my skin collapses fleshlessly to the bone, and a bulge appears at belt level.
Heh.
I might... just... take a slash about now...
Balance is restored with some further transferring of water in and water out: the sun comes out, the birds sing, the eyes brighten, the brain whirs, Sal is on form.
Toddle down past London Bridge and along Borough High Street and find the building. Uh oh. Serviced offices with that developer's quick-buck el-cheapo disintegrating tone: cracked smiles and flaking brass trim, ill-fitting too-light doors and slapped-on paint. Crap. Still, I am in desperate desperate need of a job, and this one I can do standing on my head.
."
Heh.
I might... just... take a slash about now...
Balance is restored with some further transferring of water in and water out: the sun comes out, the birds sing, the eyes brighten, the brain whirs, Sal is on form.
Toddle down past London Bridge and along Borough High Street and find the building. Uh oh. Serviced offices with that developer's quick-buck el-cheapo disintegrating tone: cracked smiles and flaking brass trim, ill-fitting too-light doors and slapped-on paint. Crap. Still, I am in desperate desperate need of a job, and this one I can do standing on my head.
."
Tuesday, May 25, 2004
You get what you pay for
Which means I should have... yes! Look at all these great emotional scars.
I'm not real impressed with this £1.00 thermometer I got from the chemist. I've sat here with it in my mouth for 5 minutes now, and it says it's going to rain.
I'm not real impressed with this £1.00 thermometer I got from the chemist. I've sat here with it in my mouth for 5 minutes now, and it says it's going to rain.
Monday, May 24, 2004
Mirror
Whoa. Just ran across something that neatly encapsulated my whole life's approach to problems/analysis:
Seek simplicity, and distrust it.
-- Alfred North Whitehead (1861 - 1947)
Equal Importunity
Welcome to all the Barbeloids clicking through [2006.04].
I strongly recommend you read the 2 Comments to this post.
But something you might like to ponder, regarding yourself and your own motivations:
Ask yourself: why did you choose to click THIS link and not the one included in the topic?
Barbeloids' proportions are so far running around 12:1 in favour of snoid vs. topic.
Just a thought.
Self-awareness is always hardest for those keener on the Social world than the Real world.
"We now return you to the original post." In light of the now-altered context, and the fact that Barbeloids will not have read the preceding and proceeding months' related posts and comments on this and related sites, of which this one post forms merely one moment of a chronology/dialogue, there should probably be quotation marks round "Equal Opportunities Policy" to make it clearer that that was the heading on the form. However, this was the syntax I chose at the time to represent my opinion of the form-writers at the time, writing in the context of, and for, people reading it who knew the background. To change it now to take into account its new context would be unfair to the person linking to it.
Read it any way you choose. This choice is the reader's right.
The way you do choose to read it is indicative, of attitude and thence of motivation. This assessment is the observers' right.
Oh joy another on-line form. This is CRUCIAL to make the HR Dept feel groovy and switched on.
tum te tum te grr te tum te grrr for god's sake learn to code for platform-independence you drongoes, not everyone wants to sit in a microsoft hole you know
Equal Opportunities Policy
perhaps if you spent less time talking about it and more time doing it, you wouldn't have to keep going on about it
blah waffle yadda yadda
"Do you consider yourself to have a Disability?"
Yes. White male heterosexual. I've got no hope.
Saturday, May 22, 2004
2 things
- Wild Things is a movie of 2 parts and both ROCK
I love a happy ending
If you haven't seen it, rush out and rent it right now. Well, in a couple of minutes, because first you must move onto point 2.
- Why aren't people looking at the Wry-Observation Consultancy? Hmm? Go look at it now, I insist. It was the funny part-- without it the post here was just irrelevant.
Go Here Now
Alive!
Ha ha they missed me they missed me, nyah nyah nyahnyah nyah.
All your bus are belong to me.
All your bus are belong to me.
Wild Things
I'm halfway through watching this movie now-- grabbed it on TiVo the other day because the review said it had two hot babes and a bisexual theme. Fantastic. But it's been a bit of a surprise. Even from the outset I was struck by the richness of the camerawork, how integratedly everything meshed with, made, the story. The characterisations, the acting, fantastic. And I absolutely did not see the twist coming. We're only halfway through now and it's turning into quite a different movie so we'll wait and see how it pans out.
So why am I bothering to blog this, i.e, blog it now?
Well I just remembered I had to grab some stuff in Camden so am about to leap aboard scooter-back and ring-a-ding off round town. And I'm not feeling real flash so I could wind up under a truck or being peeled off the front of a bus, and it's REALLY important that you know this thing about Wild Things, the movie, i.e., that it is a real good one.
So, this is my last note, my gift to the world, my gift to YOU, the bloggees (singing! "hey hey, we're the bloggees. and we're just blogging around. 'cos we've got nothing to say, yeah. so we're just having fu-uun"). Were I rich, I'd be swiftly establishing a couple of philanthropic trusts about now, dedicated to improving the lives of the poor and undertrodden everywhere. But I'm not. I've just got this blog. Go blog, go.
And the reason I'm feeling rough is that the midnight adrenaline just as I was crawling off to bed last night left me unable to sleep so I massage cointreau into my head for a while and now it hurts and the world looks unfriendly and sharp. All knife-edged shadows and things. Not good. And I'm heading into next door's party tonight too, aren't I? God, I forgot about that. Remind me not to blog anything afterwards. From the previous entry, it's clear that adrenaline and blogging go together about as well as alcohol and blogging.
Oh crap, I just remembered I have to put a custom CV together today, too. Will the dramas never end?
Go scooter, go.
So why am I bothering to blog this, i.e, blog it now?
Well I just remembered I had to grab some stuff in Camden so am about to leap aboard scooter-back and ring-a-ding off round town. And I'm not feeling real flash so I could wind up under a truck or being peeled off the front of a bus, and it's REALLY important that you know this thing about Wild Things, the movie, i.e., that it is a real good one.
So, this is my last note, my gift to the world, my gift to YOU, the bloggees (singing! "hey hey, we're the bloggees. and we're just blogging around. 'cos we've got nothing to say, yeah. so we're just having fu-uun"). Were I rich, I'd be swiftly establishing a couple of philanthropic trusts about now, dedicated to improving the lives of the poor and undertrodden everywhere. But I'm not. I've just got this blog. Go blog, go.
And the reason I'm feeling rough is that the midnight adrenaline just as I was crawling off to bed last night left me unable to sleep so I massage cointreau into my head for a while and now it hurts and the world looks unfriendly and sharp. All knife-edged shadows and things. Not good. And I'm heading into next door's party tonight too, aren't I? God, I forgot about that. Remind me not to blog anything afterwards. From the previous entry, it's clear that adrenaline and blogging go together about as well as alcohol and blogging.
Oh crap, I just remembered I have to put a custom CV together today, too. Will the dramas never end?
Go scooter, go.
Show's over
Friday, May 21, 2004
Oo drama
20 man fight under my windows. Watched for a bit. I'm heading outside to back up the waiters.
The New New Economy
No, I'm not talking about using agglutinated razor scrapings as soap, I'm talking the new blog-driven ultra-fiscality.
Yayus, the laudable JB, NG, and ME are forming a consultancy.
OK, OK, despite my very best half-arsed lackadaisical non-efforts, I can't think of a way of squeezing the Blog word in there as a pun so get stuffed. Suggestions gladly plagiarised.
Actually, NutGroist doesn't know yet. And Jonny hasn't replied. But apart from that, so far we are proceeding in a state of complete synonomy. No, harmony. No, hegemony. That's it, hegemony. Bow before the power of our financial hedge, peons. Also, all you daises should bow too, that's only fair.
Yayus, the laudable JB, NG, and ME are forming a consultancy.
OK, OK, despite my very best half-arsed lackadaisical non-efforts, I can't think of a way of squeezing the Blog word in there as a pun so get stuffed. Suggestions gladly plagiarised.
Actually, NutGroist doesn't know yet. And Jonny hasn't replied. But apart from that, so far we are proceeding in a state of complete synonomy. No, harmony. No, hegemony. That's it, hegemony. Bow before the power of our financial hedge, peons. Also, all you daises should bow too, that's only fair.
That's the spirit
very enthusiastic response to first phone-call, send CV, then:
- Sal:
- So, you've got my CV now?
- Recruitment Agent:
- Yes. I'm sorry, but you're not suitable. We won't be able to put you forward.
- S:
- ...
Sorry, I'm not sure I understand.
Your client is looking for someone to work on time-varying and trending multifactor sector rotation models, both predefined Styles and via principal component analysis, in a long-short equity environment with emphasis on the US, Japanese, and UK markets, yes? Ideally in a hedge fund.
- A:
- That's right.
- S:
- I've done that.
- A:
- Yes.
- S:
- Exactly that. With very strong results.
- A:
- Yes...
- S:
- Not many people have.
- A:
- No.
- S:
- You've advertised this position for how long now?
- A:
- Ah, about four weeks.
N.B.: most openings in this market close in 3-5 days
- S:
- And in that time, you've found HOW many people who have done this or even know how to do it?
- A:
- Ah...
None.
- S:
- Right, thanks, just checking I'd rung the right person. So WHY exactly will you not put me forward to the client?
Given that I can do and have done exactly what they've asked you for and I'm the only one who's applied.
- A:
- Looking at your CV...
- S:
- Yes?
- A:
- Well, after you did that you spent time in this IT company. And then you worked at a technology start-up.
- S:
- Yes.
- A:
- [sweats] We can't put you forwards.
Apple III
Timing.
I don't want to bang on about this, but as food for thought: in last night's MacWorld e-mailout, 2 relevant announcements were included.
Look again at what i said the likely behavioural implications were within Apple (assuming i was correct), then observe:
I don't want to bang on about this, but as food for thought: in last night's MacWorld e-mailout, 2 relevant announcements were included.
Look again at what i said the likely behavioural implications were within Apple (assuming i was correct), then observe:
- iPod & Macintosh divisions separated
http://www.macworld.co.uk/news/top_news_item.cfm?NewsID=8718
- Mac OS X development resourcing to be reduced
http://www.macworld.co.uk/news/main_news.cfm?NewsID=8709
Thursday, May 20, 2004
Fathers 4 Spelling
Biff! Some people attempting to raise the profile of an ongoing UK-wide problem have taken to progressively more visible publicity stunts. Yesterday, two of them threw a condom filled with purple flour at the Prime Minister in Parliament.
Several people have said that while they agree with what the "Fathers 4 Justice" group are trying to achieve (less extreme anti-male prejudice in setting access rights to children in divorce cases and in enforcing those access rights afterwards), they think stunts like this are obnoxious, pointless, and unnecessary.
I'd like to say i agree in theory, but i have to disagree in practice.
And like it or not, we live in the real world.
Consider:
The UK's current Family Law and, far more importantly, the self-decided bureaucratic rules applied in enforcing the law take it as axiomatic that children belong to their mothers and their mothers alone. A mother need only demand exclusive access and the father must prove why she should not have it. A mother may deny legally-granted access and the father has no practicable recourse. Think about that second one for a moment.
A law that only one "equal" party can use for redress against the other is not a law, it is a weapon.
This has been pointed out and complained about for YEARS, including by people within the legal and administrative system.
Nothing has happened, no large-scale/official attention has been paid.
There is no mechanism for forcing or even demanding a review of unfair Family Law procedures or law. The only "escape hatch" is to prod a Minister hard enough that s/he overrides all the standard procedures.
Despite the peurile nature of these stunts, the fact is that the publicity they've drawn has been extremely useful in also drawing people's (& the media's) attention to the problem.
So yeah, the tactics suck. But the fact that these are the only tactics that have worked sucks even more.
Several people have said that while they agree with what the "Fathers 4 Justice" group are trying to achieve (less extreme anti-male prejudice in setting access rights to children in divorce cases and in enforcing those access rights afterwards), they think stunts like this are obnoxious, pointless, and unnecessary.
I'd like to say i agree in theory, but i have to disagree in practice.
And like it or not, we live in the real world.
Consider:
The UK's current Family Law and, far more importantly, the self-decided bureaucratic rules applied in enforcing the law take it as axiomatic that children belong to their mothers and their mothers alone. A mother need only demand exclusive access and the father must prove why she should not have it. A mother may deny legally-granted access and the father has no practicable recourse. Think about that second one for a moment.
A law that only one "equal" party can use for redress against the other is not a law, it is a weapon.
This has been pointed out and complained about for YEARS, including by people within the legal and administrative system.
Nothing has happened, no large-scale/official attention has been paid.
There is no mechanism for forcing or even demanding a review of unfair Family Law procedures or law. The only "escape hatch" is to prod a Minister hard enough that s/he overrides all the standard procedures.
Incidentally, similar lack of explicit in-system procedures to deal with system problems is an appallingly standard approach in the UK: problems must be addressed by a single central person with override authority. Bizarre.
Despite the peurile nature of these stunts, the fact is that the publicity they've drawn has been extremely useful in also drawing people's (& the media's) attention to the problem.
So yeah, the tactics suck. But the fact that these are the only tactics that have worked sucks even more.
Mac II
I got taken to task by email for yesterday's post. So I'd like to post the response. If only because my ISP appears to have lost the plot email-wise and I've been pretty much locked out most of yesterday and all of today, until just now when a connection attempt finally got through, spent half an hour comparing IDs, then started downloading 12,000 emails.
...
>> for those who haven't noticed, apple has been moving off mac as its
>> primary revenue(-growth) generator for a couple of years,
>
> Where do you get this rubbish from?
> Of the $1,909,000,000 income last quarter Macs accounted for
> $1,160,000,000
Look at your own numbers here.
From an analyst's perspective (I used to do this for a living) 40% of apple's income is now non-macintosh related, and that 40% is the only segment which is showing significant or even sustainable growth. 60% is stagnant and showing alarming signs of disintegration in parts (noted the desktop sales recently?)
To put it another way, a 10-20% increase in ipod etc revenue would make macintosh less than half the company.
And for people within apple who are seeking to get ahead, the macintosh section is old, risky, and a technologically difficult area. Compared with young, new-wave, simplicity of pushing well-known cultural elements like music, personal lifestyle toys, etc.
So where do you think the effort within apple is likely to be directed?
> ipod
iPods are nice money but strategically nearly irrelevant. They are to future revenue what the playstation was to sony and the pc was to microsoft -- a delivery mechanism and a locking-in mechanism for a completely separate product/income stream. Any profit they also make off it is great but will be expected to be incidental in the years to come as the main product stream booms. Sony actually strategically ran a loss on its games hardware to ensure maximum takeup (which is why the later connectix lawsuit was such a hilariously wrongheaded example of how corporate political environments rarely maintain a rational grip on any strategy)
>> backdoor ingress to windoze shops
>> explode the macosx market.
>
> If Apple wanted this, they could just release OS X for Intel.
> Technologically not a major hurdle.
Couldn't agree with you more.
> Apple doesn't want this.
Couldn't agree with you more.
They have already killed mac-on-intel once, when one of their own engineers did it a decade ago.
But note: their reasons are not market or technical or strategic reasons, they are merely groupthink.
>Their core business is, and will remain for
>some time, hardware.
Just as, for most of the 80s, apple's core business was, and remained, the apple ii
just as, now and for the indefinite future, motorola's core business is the 68k chip series. By a long way.
You have to look at how the revenues/market-receptivenesses are *changing*, and where the internal corporate attention is directed, to see where things are going.
The gardener looks to the leaf to assess health, and to the bud to assess future.
You should consider carefully that apple's core business for the last two decades has not been hardware or software, but the *macintosh environment*, and that for various reasons they have historically chosen to extract their profit from the hardware side rather than the software side. For a long time they even provided the software for free -- you could walk into any apple store and they'd hand you free installation disks. They have eliminated most need to develop corporate competitive ability/awareness internally by maintaining monopoly control of the macintosh environment's required hardware. (You saw the way they fumbled the "clone" attempt -- doing only half of what was required to follow through on such a strategy.)
In the last few years, they have moved to actively seeking profit from their core software: the Mac environment, the Mac OS.
Dell is a hardware company. Apple's mac division is a user-environment company.
And make no mistake, without the Mac OS, the demand for Mac hardware is virtually nil. In the longer term and the larger perspective, the software uptake drives the hardware demand, not the other way round.
Unfortunately, there could still be a way for Apple to block this. But damned if I'm going to publicise it.
...
>> for those who haven't noticed, apple has been moving off mac as its
>> primary revenue(-growth) generator for a couple of years,
>
> Where do you get this rubbish from?
> Of the $1,909,000,000 income last quarter Macs accounted for
> $1,160,000,000
- there's a huge difference between revenue and avenues for revenue growth
- Mac market continues to shrink
- new sales effort & (more critically) mindshare within Apple is restricted to education and non-Mac content broking. The "push" for the critical corporate market was no more than window dressing, to the point where the guy brought in with much fanfare to spearhead the attack resigned with very public disgust.
- mac "r&d" is confined to bringing a reimplementation of mac os back up to speed but without recourse to human factor engineers or even apple's own mac ui design guidelines, plus some hardware tinkering
Look at your own numbers here.
From an analyst's perspective (I used to do this for a living) 40% of apple's income is now non-macintosh related, and that 40% is the only segment which is showing significant or even sustainable growth. 60% is stagnant and showing alarming signs of disintegration in parts (noted the desktop sales recently?)
To put it another way, a 10-20% increase in ipod etc revenue would make macintosh less than half the company.
And for people within apple who are seeking to get ahead, the macintosh section is old, risky, and a technologically difficult area. Compared with young, new-wave, simplicity of pushing well-known cultural elements like music, personal lifestyle toys, etc.
So where do you think the effort within apple is likely to be directed?
> ipod
iPods are nice money but strategically nearly irrelevant. They are to future revenue what the playstation was to sony and the pc was to microsoft -- a delivery mechanism and a locking-in mechanism for a completely separate product/income stream. Any profit they also make off it is great but will be expected to be incidental in the years to come as the main product stream booms. Sony actually strategically ran a loss on its games hardware to ensure maximum takeup (which is why the later connectix lawsuit was such a hilariously wrongheaded example of how corporate political environments rarely maintain a rational grip on any strategy)
>> backdoor ingress to windoze shops
>> explode the macosx market.
>
> If Apple wanted this, they could just release OS X for Intel.
> Technologically not a major hurdle.
Couldn't agree with you more.
> Apple doesn't want this.
Couldn't agree with you more.
They have already killed mac-on-intel once, when one of their own engineers did it a decade ago.
But note: their reasons are not market or technical or strategic reasons, they are merely groupthink.
>Their core business is, and will remain for
>some time, hardware.
Just as, for most of the 80s, apple's core business was, and remained, the apple ii
just as, now and for the indefinite future, motorola's core business is the 68k chip series. By a long way.
You have to look at how the revenues/market-receptivenesses are *changing*, and where the internal corporate attention is directed, to see where things are going.
The gardener looks to the leaf to assess health, and to the bud to assess future.
You should consider carefully that apple's core business for the last two decades has not been hardware or software, but the *macintosh environment*, and that for various reasons they have historically chosen to extract their profit from the hardware side rather than the software side. For a long time they even provided the software for free -- you could walk into any apple store and they'd hand you free installation disks. They have eliminated most need to develop corporate competitive ability/awareness internally by maintaining monopoly control of the macintosh environment's required hardware. (You saw the way they fumbled the "clone" attempt -- doing only half of what was required to follow through on such a strategy.)
In the last few years, they have moved to actively seeking profit from their core software: the Mac environment, the Mac OS.
Dell is a hardware company. Apple's mac division is a user-environment company.
And make no mistake, without the Mac OS, the demand for Mac hardware is virtually nil. In the longer term and the larger perspective, the software uptake drives the hardware demand, not the other way round.
Unfortunately, there could still be a way for Apple to block this. But damned if I'm going to publicise it.
Wednesday, May 19, 2004
Right. That's IT.
I've had it up to here. If I get ONE MORE rhetorical ultimatum, I'll...
Mac money now, axe me how
You are present at the potential re-invigoration of the decade-dead personal computing environment. The Macintosh may now be viable again, as it just took a 5,000 volt arc through the heart from a passing samaritan.
And over and above the simple engineering aspects, this has real money consequences.
And you might be able to get some of that yourself.
I'm not sure why, but I have seen no commentators observe that Apple has been steadily moving off Macintosh as its primary revenue(-growth) generator for the last few years. Mac OS X is strategically suicide for Macintosh in its current implementation (expensive linux with bolloxed UI that runs only on single-source expensive machines, anyone?) BUT does provide a superb bridging band-aid for Apple to keep its existing Mac users generating revenue until it came up with something else. That something else has been Content-Broking, and Apple has quite nicely leveraged its locked-in monotonic userbase to create instant marketshare in the first instance, and the speedy Windows roll-out following means Apple should be able to happily haircut music, video, etc. transactions pretty much indefinitely.
But I've been using Macs since they first won me over in 1987 and, despite its bathetic stagnation as an OS since Mac OS 6, I really would like to see it get back up again.
I've finally seen what I've been hoping for for years:
Macintosh now runs on the Intel platform, and this new ability is NOT under Apple's control so they can not screw it up as thoroughly as they did last time ('91 or '92 IIRC).
I'll re-iterate the key point:
This is the biggest positive event in Apple's history since the Macintosh first struggled out past the politics in 1984 to replace the Apple II as Apple's primary revenue generator.
Why?
Let's take a quick look at some numbers.
I don't have full data anymore so I'll confine myself to boradbrush indicators as the key idea of this blog post is to communicate the level of impact this could have on Apple, rather than trying to determine specific ranges of dollar values for that impact on the P&L and share-price.
Looking at the current desktop market, Mac market share is approx. 2% globally, slightly higher intra-US. Windows is essentially the remainder. Ignoring the myriad data explosions beneath this rough-and-ready new-sales-only figure, if roughly 1 in 50 Windows-using companies/people elected to buy Mac OS X instead of Windows XP for their next upgrade, Mac would roughly double its marketshare & software revenues for no substantial increase in costs. 1 in 50 is not an unreasonable figure, given the dynamics of this market.
And beneath this new-sales-only figure lie other opportunities, such as wintel shops moving to Mac who would otherwise have not upgraded or perhaps moved to Linux.
In addition to that, companies and government/education bodies which have been prevented from considering Macintosh because their IT risk policy requires systems with multiple hardware suppliers are now part of the Apple sales force's market again.
The knock-on benefits of the possible pace of profound boost in mindshare are, I think we can safely say, almost certain to be fumbled by Apple's corporate parasites as thoroughly as they have every other opportunity in the past. But at the very least, it should double. And that itself can translate into self-sustaining marketshare growth. At least for a while.
We can expect to see inertia protecting hardware sales for at least a year or two, as existing Mac die-hards stick with Apple kit for loyalty/nostalgia reasons, and thereafter Apple's sheer design and engineering quality should allow it to compete quite handily in the "bmw" market-segment of Sony et al. I would personally call hardware sales to expand rather than shrink so long as attention is paid to the market's actual drivers: marketshare/mindshare.
Long-term, that is of course the big risk: sustaining mindshare, which sustains new sales/marketshare. Historically, Apple corporate has told the world to shove marketshare up its arse. And look! That's where it went!
But, on balance, and speaking as someone used to spend his professional day making a lot of money for other people in the markets (and wouldn't mind doing so again, if anyone wants to override their HR departments and talk to me directly), everyone with spare cash should BUY APPLE STOCK NOW.
If nothing else, there'll be a boost on the news regardless of what Apple then do over the next year or so. When the analysts twig, there will be a herd surge into the stock and some retraction once the initial hysteria wears off and they look closer at the immediate speed issues. Try to get in before then. Then sell after the jump. I'd be expecting a coherent response from Microsoft and an incoherent one from Apple, so the achievable value could disappear within months. If Apple hasn't thrown it away, buy back in -- Mac's back for the long haul.
And over and above the simple engineering aspects, this has real money consequences.
And you might be able to get some of that yourself.
Glossary:
- Macintosh:
- a computer user environment/interface.
(currently undergoing progressive re-implementation on a unix foundation but without guidance from human-factor engineers or recourse to the Macintosh UI Design Guidelines)- Apple :
- a company which for the last two decades has derived the bulk of its income from monopoly supply of core hardware and software to the Macintosh user community
I'm not sure why, but I have seen no commentators observe that Apple has been steadily moving off Macintosh as its primary revenue(-growth) generator for the last few years. Mac OS X is strategically suicide for Macintosh in its current implementation (expensive linux with bolloxed UI that runs only on single-source expensive machines, anyone?) BUT does provide a superb bridging band-aid for Apple to keep its existing Mac users generating revenue until it came up with something else. That something else has been Content-Broking, and Apple has quite nicely leveraged its locked-in monotonic userbase to create instant marketshare in the first instance, and the speedy Windows roll-out following means Apple should be able to happily haircut music, video, etc. transactions pretty much indefinitely.
But I've been using Macs since they first won me over in 1987 and, despite its bathetic stagnation as an OS since Mac OS 6, I really would like to see it get back up again.
I've finally seen what I've been hoping for for years:
Macintosh now runs on the Intel platform, and this new ability is NOT under Apple's control so they can not screw it up as thoroughly as they did last time ('91 or '92 IIRC).
- via slashdot
- A novice user installs Mac OS X on his PC :
- "PearPC 0.1: Is It A Miracle?"
- The tool (emulation environment) that allows it :
- PearPC
Bear in mind, this is version 0.1: it is the first cut of a hobby project by 1.5 guys. Give it a year and some serious optimisation to give it competitive speed.
I'll re-iterate the key point:
Someone has taken the hardware choice out of Apple's hands.
Apple's internal politics can NOT cock this up anymore.
This is the biggest positive event in Apple's history since the Macintosh first struggled out past the politics in 1984 to replace the Apple II as Apple's primary revenue generator.
Why?
Let's take a quick look at some numbers.
I don't have full data anymore so I'll confine myself to boradbrush indicators as the key idea of this blog post is to communicate the level of impact this could have on Apple, rather than trying to determine specific ranges of dollar values for that impact on the P&L and share-price.
Looking at the current desktop market, Mac market share is approx. 2% globally, slightly higher intra-US. Windows is essentially the remainder. Ignoring the myriad data explosions beneath this rough-and-ready new-sales-only figure, if roughly 1 in 50 Windows-using companies/people elected to buy Mac OS X instead of Windows XP for their next upgrade, Mac would roughly double its marketshare & software revenues for no substantial increase in costs. 1 in 50 is not an unreasonable figure, given the dynamics of this market.
And beneath this new-sales-only figure lie other opportunities, such as wintel shops moving to Mac who would otherwise have not upgraded or perhaps moved to Linux.
In addition to that, companies and government/education bodies which have been prevented from considering Macintosh because their IT risk policy requires systems with multiple hardware suppliers are now part of the Apple sales force's market again.
The knock-on benefits of the possible pace of profound boost in mindshare are, I think we can safely say, almost certain to be fumbled by Apple's corporate parasites as thoroughly as they have every other opportunity in the past. But at the very least, it should double. And that itself can translate into self-sustaining marketshare growth. At least for a while.
We can expect to see inertia protecting hardware sales for at least a year or two, as existing Mac die-hards stick with Apple kit for loyalty/nostalgia reasons, and thereafter Apple's sheer design and engineering quality should allow it to compete quite handily in the "bmw" market-segment of Sony et al. I would personally call hardware sales to expand rather than shrink so long as attention is paid to the market's actual drivers: marketshare/mindshare.
Long-term, that is of course the big risk: sustaining mindshare, which sustains new sales/marketshare. Historically, Apple corporate has told the world to shove marketshare up its arse. And look! That's where it went!
But, on balance, and speaking as someone used to spend his professional day making a lot of money for other people in the markets (and wouldn't mind doing so again, if anyone wants to override their HR departments and talk to me directly), everyone with spare cash should BUY APPLE STOCK NOW.
If nothing else, there'll be a boost on the news regardless of what Apple then do over the next year or so. When the analysts twig, there will be a herd surge into the stock and some retraction once the initial hysteria wears off and they look closer at the immediate speed issues. Try to get in before then. Then sell after the jump. I'd be expecting a coherent response from Microsoft and an incoherent one from Apple, so the achievable value could disappear within months. If Apple hasn't thrown it away, buy back in -- Mac's back for the long haul.
Tuesday, May 18, 2004
Misc Post
Barely diary but what the hell.
Yesterday we wuz taken off the (eth)air by virtue of and by sin of a cable cut somewhere nearby wiping a peculiar local subsection of King Henry's Artillery Fields off the electrickery map. And, I discovered tonight, also an old workplace of mine next to the Gherkin. Coincidence??
So, I could do no fresh job searches. Nor type up and email paper jobs. Nor follow up existing ones by email. Nor even ring round to nudge &/or follow up any of the agents, since I was down to a single charge bar on the phone and could not risk an incoming call failing (an incoming agent call means DEFINITE movement, not outside chance thereof).
Ah.... crap. Oh well, I'll have a cup of tea while I wait. Oh, no kettle. OK, I'll just have a quick cup of coffee to wake up, and... Oh. Give up and watch TV. Oh.
I headed round various places with my dud-batteried laptop to try to find a public powerpoint. Nada. The one place I was sure I could plug in was the Barbican "Concert Café" balcony/walkway (with neither café nor concerts, just chairs and a powerpoint by each chair-- go figure) since I'd seen people laptop-plugged in there before. Unfortunately, this time there was no-one else there so I kinda stuck out a bit (maybe Monday's not trendy enough for people to pose as Roadwarriors On The Go). I bent down plug-handed and saw with a sinking smile that someone had put a little sticky label on... yes, on all of the powerpoints: "Not to be used except by official Barbican staff" or similar.
Most laptops pull maybe 10-20 watts at full whack. A single 2 kilowatt cup of staff tea would run a laptop for a couple of days.
A flickering fluoro burns more power.
But by god we can't have people treating this public facility like a public facility!
No, you can't pay 10p to cover it. [sniff] What do you think this is. A commercial enterprise?
This same mindset, incidentally, writ large, creates such excrescences as the NHS and the English "social security" "system." And the Guardian.
Stance, not Substance.
But that's a post or three for another day.
In nothing-ventured mode I plugged in and booted up. Crappy OS 9 crawled through its startup and as the Finder struggled to work out where it was and start displaying things, the bored Russian security guard broke off his shouted conversation with the cleaner on the ground floor below us, hove to behind me --oh, all right you pedants, he just brighton to-- and with a flicker of interest in the back of his black marble eyes informed me that I could not use the powerpoints here. I toyed with the idea of overpowering him then shooting my way out after I'd typed up some job grovels. Then reflected that it's not so easy to concentrate on the appropriate tone of energetic subservience while dominating the encircling hordes of polite armoured commandos by sheer force of will. Also, not so easy to type one handed to leave the other one free for weapon waving. Speaking of which... bugger. I must have left it at home. How long can I keep the armed response group at bay with my hand shoved in a pocket throwing pistol shapes for the crowd? Actually, I don't even have a coat or jacket or anything to even give me a shot at doing THAT. Jeans and t-shirt. Gesturing at the crowd with the hand down my jeans pocket? I'll look like I'm masturbating. Not the best posture to take when attempting to browbeat your opposition with Menace.
"Back off, copper. Or I'll fillya fulla hot zinc."
Shutdown.
For now, I'd run out of options so got on with all my various non-electronic chores-about-town, and was done by about 11am. Toddled home and made a big sandwich in the dark then toddled out into the sun.
There may be English people reading this so I'll type that again.
The sun.
Oo I just got a nose bleed.
Woot! Sun! Woot! While I'm not yet QUITE down to English-people's standards of stripping to my jocks and lying on the footpath along with all the other scorching pinking greasy white purulent cave seals for people to trip squidgily over everytime something yellow appears in the sky, it's still a BLOODY nice change. So out I toddle to Finsbury Circus as the only nice large bit of heavily green space within a mile that... arh.... is likely to be an epicentre of drop-dead glamorous City chicks flaunting themselves in the sun.
Guys, free tip. Don't bother. Finsbury Circus is NOT where they go. They're all still indoors in the expensive bits, showing off for what they regard as a lifestyle (and wondering why they get bitter as they get older, instead of happier... odd, that).
I got there early, spent 2 luxurious hours getting (very happily) sunburnt at the top of that micro-mountain built to cover the pressure vents over the underground. Which makes for a great all-body massage as the ground shakes and jumps. The pleasure is only slightly diminished by the drunks moaning and weeping and jumping off their benches shrieking and slapping at their arms as they briefly see triple and feel their body ripple.
The crowd rose and fell around me like a lunchtime tide.
Lots of enjoyable things to observe through sun-slitted lids.
But of sun-stroked über-babes sweating through too-tight clothes: not a sausage.
Total number of nubile fantasies lying back with sweat droplets beading their toned tanned upper lips, struggling against sun-stroke and yearning for sal-stroke: nought.
We did have one browned lovely with an exercised body park herself in the field of view for some time, but she COMPLETELY failed to sleep with me so obviously was suffering from personal problems of a fairly serious nature and thus not the sort of person I'd want to get involved with. Despite my romantic history and current romantic landscape being littered with same.
What a waste of 2 hours.
Oh what the hell, I had 2 powercut-enforced hours lying in the mild English sun on fresh cool grass, alternating between a good book, a good sleep, and a good people watch. Could it have been improved by a chelsea of supermodels struggling with nudity issues in front of me? Damn straight. But it wasn't. Damn. So the next time I have to go lie in the sun somewhere pleasant, I think I'll head for Cabot Square and see what the lunchtime traffic's like.
--
Today was slow going. The power was back on but I spent most of the morning mustering mood, most of the afternoon chasing up existing plays, and as I paused to regather energy/mood on the brink of rolling into new plays a friend rang. He's down on Bishopsgate, do I fancy one drink before he heads home? Yes but no, I have stuff to do. Then I stop and think. 6:30ish, brain greyed by coaxing along incompetents for 4 or 5 hours, I'm going to be lucky now to get 3 new app'ns out tonight. Which I could do in an hour first-thing fresh tomorrow. And I haven't seen A. for... a month? Two?
"OK, but not out -- how about I crack a bottle and we have a balloon on the back deck."
1996 Coonawarra Shiraz, laid down 6 years ago, perfect cork.
Sun strips spattering the decking, blue sky above, feet up on the spare chairs.
Bright browned deep red swirling in the big crystal balloons.
Old friends touching base for the first time in too long.
Yesterday we wuz taken off the (eth)air by virtue of and by sin of a cable cut somewhere nearby wiping a peculiar local subsection of King Henry's Artillery Fields off the electrickery map. And, I discovered tonight, also an old workplace of mine next to the Gherkin. Coincidence??
So, I could do no fresh job searches. Nor type up and email paper jobs. Nor follow up existing ones by email. Nor even ring round to nudge &/or follow up any of the agents, since I was down to a single charge bar on the phone and could not risk an incoming call failing (an incoming agent call means DEFINITE movement, not outside chance thereof).
Ah.... crap. Oh well, I'll have a cup of tea while I wait. Oh, no kettle. OK, I'll just have a quick cup of coffee to wake up, and... Oh. Give up and watch TV. Oh.
I headed round various places with my dud-batteried laptop to try to find a public powerpoint. Nada. The one place I was sure I could plug in was the Barbican "Concert Café" balcony/walkway (with neither café nor concerts, just chairs and a powerpoint by each chair-- go figure) since I'd seen people laptop-plugged in there before. Unfortunately, this time there was no-one else there so I kinda stuck out a bit (maybe Monday's not trendy enough for people to pose as Roadwarriors On The Go). I bent down plug-handed and saw with a sinking smile that someone had put a little sticky label on... yes, on all of the powerpoints: "Not to be used except by official Barbican staff" or similar.
I always like to sit back and think of the mindset of the people who think up and then do things like these labels. Much drama, much self-righteousness. Shades of wattling weak brittle fury. Right has been defended!!!
Most laptops pull maybe 10-20 watts at full whack. A single 2 kilowatt cup of staff tea would run a laptop for a couple of days.
A flickering fluoro burns more power.
But by god we can't have people treating this public facility like a public facility!
No, you can't pay 10p to cover it. [sniff] What do you think this is. A commercial enterprise?
This same mindset, incidentally, writ large, creates such excrescences as the NHS and the English "social security" "system." And the Guardian.
Stance, not Substance.
But that's a post or three for another day.
In nothing-ventured mode I plugged in and booted up. Crappy OS 9 crawled through its startup and as the Finder struggled to work out where it was and start displaying things, the bored Russian security guard broke off his shouted conversation with the cleaner on the ground floor below us, hove to behind me --oh, all right you pedants, he just brighton to-- and with a flicker of interest in the back of his black marble eyes informed me that I could not use the powerpoints here. I toyed with the idea of overpowering him then shooting my way out after I'd typed up some job grovels. Then reflected that it's not so easy to concentrate on the appropriate tone of energetic subservience while dominating the encircling hordes of polite armoured commandos by sheer force of will. Also, not so easy to type one handed to leave the other one free for weapon waving. Speaking of which... bugger. I must have left it at home. How long can I keep the armed response group at bay with my hand shoved in a pocket throwing pistol shapes for the crowd? Actually, I don't even have a coat or jacket or anything to even give me a shot at doing THAT. Jeans and t-shirt. Gesturing at the crowd with the hand down my jeans pocket? I'll look like I'm masturbating. Not the best posture to take when attempting to browbeat your opposition with Menace.
"Back off, copper. Or I'll fillya fulla hot zinc."
Shutdown.
For now, I'd run out of options so got on with all my various non-electronic chores-about-town, and was done by about 11am. Toddled home and made a big sandwich in the dark then toddled out into the sun.
There may be English people reading this so I'll type that again.
The sun.
Oo I just got a nose bleed.
Woot! Sun! Woot! While I'm not yet QUITE down to English-people's standards of stripping to my jocks and lying on the footpath along with all the other scorching pinking greasy white purulent cave seals for people to trip squidgily over everytime something yellow appears in the sky, it's still a BLOODY nice change. So out I toddle to Finsbury Circus as the only nice large bit of heavily green space within a mile that... arh.... is likely to be an epicentre of drop-dead glamorous City chicks flaunting themselves in the sun.
Guys, free tip. Don't bother. Finsbury Circus is NOT where they go. They're all still indoors in the expensive bits, showing off for what they regard as a lifestyle (and wondering why they get bitter as they get older, instead of happier... odd, that).
I got there early, spent 2 luxurious hours getting (very happily) sunburnt at the top of that micro-mountain built to cover the pressure vents over the underground. Which makes for a great all-body massage as the ground shakes and jumps. The pleasure is only slightly diminished by the drunks moaning and weeping and jumping off their benches shrieking and slapping at their arms as they briefly see triple and feel their body ripple.
The crowd rose and fell around me like a lunchtime tide.
Lots of enjoyable things to observe through sun-slitted lids.
But of sun-stroked über-babes sweating through too-tight clothes: not a sausage.
Total number of nubile fantasies lying back with sweat droplets beading their toned tanned upper lips, struggling against sun-stroke and yearning for sal-stroke: nought.
We did have one browned lovely with an exercised body park herself in the field of view for some time, but she COMPLETELY failed to sleep with me so obviously was suffering from personal problems of a fairly serious nature and thus not the sort of person I'd want to get involved with. Despite my romantic history and current romantic landscape being littered with same.
What a waste of 2 hours.
Oh what the hell, I had 2 powercut-enforced hours lying in the mild English sun on fresh cool grass, alternating between a good book, a good sleep, and a good people watch. Could it have been improved by a chelsea of supermodels struggling with nudity issues in front of me? Damn straight. But it wasn't. Damn. So the next time I have to go lie in the sun somewhere pleasant, I think I'll head for Cabot Square and see what the lunchtime traffic's like.
--
Today was slow going. The power was back on but I spent most of the morning mustering mood, most of the afternoon chasing up existing plays, and as I paused to regather energy/mood on the brink of rolling into new plays a friend rang. He's down on Bishopsgate, do I fancy one drink before he heads home? Yes but no, I have stuff to do. Then I stop and think. 6:30ish, brain greyed by coaxing along incompetents for 4 or 5 hours, I'm going to be lucky now to get 3 new app'ns out tonight. Which I could do in an hour first-thing fresh tomorrow. And I haven't seen A. for... a month? Two?
"OK, but not out -- how about I crack a bottle and we have a balloon on the back deck."
1996 Coonawarra Shiraz, laid down 6 years ago, perfect cork.
Sun strips spattering the decking, blue sky above, feet up on the spare chairs.
Bright browned deep red swirling in the big crystal balloons.
Old friends touching base for the first time in too long.
Sunday, May 16, 2004
Reminder: Real Life
Went looking for an url to link the "Spike" in prev.post to Spike Milligan not any Buffy reference for the under-exposed Americains.
And ran across this:
And was snapped back to a breathless evening in Wimbledon shortly after I arrived in the UK. Spike was to do a reading. A reading? Of what? Oh who cares -- this is SPIKE. The genius.
The man who gripped life, real life. At a level so much deeper than those around him. Who so understood life that he could step thoughtlessly between thousand-year ecological responsibility, and the joy of a child, and the warping of a social norm, and the magnificence, the awesomeness, the realness of nature. The Nature that we are such a tiny part of, despite our arrogance.
And despite the calcifying sloth of english age gripping him:
he, his self if not his body, drifted and danced with the strength of real power, effortlessly steamrollering over concepts and thoughts and emotions that most of his audience gummed uselessly at their whole lives, making sticky messes of their pretensions and of... of most of their whole lives.
The moment that really rocked me, that didn't so much sear itself in my memory as simply appear --a permanent part of my life-- was his soft quiet sibilant rendition of "I slipped away."
Surreally, given my normal memory, I can't remember any of the words. "Just" the tone, "just" the emotion. "Just" the meaning, "just" the import, ripping off the stage and through the plastic social shells of the shiny happy chimpanzees looking vacantly back.
I'd only read it silently before. And read a cheerful non-sense. Not heard the wrung vinegar of someone wrenching out their life in soft little syllables. Sadly collapsing every life. Into a summary they'd not thought of , not dared think of. And the final line as a droll biting "I'm 18 and immortal again"--"It's not ME, it'll never happen to ME, so I can take the piss" sad twisting amusement tacked on the end. Not part of the poem. Tacked on the end. And yet... a FUNDAMENTAL part of the poem. ("Poem"? Not pretension, but a rhythmical thought. If it was less skillful, you could call it Poesy. As it is, you merely have most poets looking angry and sounding childish.) The 25 year old turning around and looking at the 75 year old down the fleshly timely tunnel, and the two looking steadily into each other's eyes, and they clasp sad hands, and the 25 year old knowing even as he takes the piss that it's him, it's him, it'll happen to him, it's now happening to him, it's even now happening to him just not now, and the moment holding and the emotion holding and the intelligence holding... for... ever.
Nothing transient about Spike's observations. Nothing ephemeral. Deeper Zen than evreewun. He only spoke to the raw fundament of humanity. Himself. And everyone. Who would listen.
That just doesn't come across on the page.
Fully.
Until you hear someone in their late 70s dressed in a disintegrating body they are utterly aware is disintegrating and can tell you how and where but not why: reading out something written, something THEY'VE written, in the first third of their life. Something they, their younger self, wrote in the first third of their life. Then spinning that last line quietly, almost under their breath, with decades of subsequent knowledge, two generations, the recognition that there was no subsequent knowledge, that there was never any need of subsequent knowledge, of being right the first time, 50 years after he wrote the words.
And you look around and see the eternal bright bored bland blank dull dull droidal flotsam who've flocked to see him because he was a legend and is now legendary.
The million worthless paper cuts who bled him dry his whole life.
And you mourn for the loss of the life he could have had and for the lack of life most now have.
Nothing changes. Nothing's changed.
And ran across this:
Last night in the twilight gloom.
A butterfly flew into my room.
Oh what beauty!
Oh what grace!
Who needs visitors from outer space?
And was snapped back to a breathless evening in Wimbledon shortly after I arrived in the UK. Spike was to do a reading. A reading? Of what? Oh who cares -- this is SPIKE. The genius.
The man who gripped life, real life. At a level so much deeper than those around him. Who so understood life that he could step thoughtlessly between thousand-year ecological responsibility, and the joy of a child, and the warping of a social norm, and the magnificence, the awesomeness, the realness of nature. The Nature that we are such a tiny part of, despite our arrogance.
And despite the calcifying sloth of english age gripping him:
he, his self if not his body, drifted and danced with the strength of real power, effortlessly steamrollering over concepts and thoughts and emotions that most of his audience gummed uselessly at their whole lives, making sticky messes of their pretensions and of... of most of their whole lives.
The moment that really rocked me, that didn't so much sear itself in my memory as simply appear --a permanent part of my life-- was his soft quiet sibilant rendition of "I slipped away."
Surreally, given my normal memory, I can't remember any of the words. "Just" the tone, "just" the emotion. "Just" the meaning, "just" the import, ripping off the stage and through the plastic social shells of the shiny happy chimpanzees looking vacantly back.
I'd only read it silently before. And read a cheerful non-sense. Not heard the wrung vinegar of someone wrenching out their life in soft little syllables. Sadly collapsing every life. Into a summary they'd not thought of , not dared think of. And the final line as a droll biting "I'm 18 and immortal again"--"It's not ME, it'll never happen to ME, so I can take the piss" sad twisting amusement tacked on the end. Not part of the poem. Tacked on the end. And yet... a FUNDAMENTAL part of the poem. ("Poem"? Not pretension, but a rhythmical thought. If it was less skillful, you could call it Poesy. As it is, you merely have most poets looking angry and sounding childish.) The 25 year old turning around and looking at the 75 year old down the fleshly timely tunnel, and the two looking steadily into each other's eyes, and they clasp sad hands, and the 25 year old knowing even as he takes the piss that it's him, it's him, it'll happen to him, it's now happening to him, it's even now happening to him just not now, and the moment holding and the emotion holding and the intelligence holding... for... ever.
Nothing transient about Spike's observations. Nothing ephemeral. Deeper Zen than evreewun. He only spoke to the raw fundament of humanity. Himself. And everyone. Who would listen.
That just doesn't come across on the page.
Fully.
Until you hear someone in their late 70s dressed in a disintegrating body they are utterly aware is disintegrating and can tell you how and where but not why: reading out something written, something THEY'VE written, in the first third of their life. Something they, their younger self, wrote in the first third of their life. Then spinning that last line quietly, almost under their breath, with decades of subsequent knowledge, two generations, the recognition that there was no subsequent knowledge, that there was never any need of subsequent knowledge, of being right the first time, 50 years after he wrote the words.
And you look around and see the eternal bright bored bland blank dull dull droidal flotsam who've flocked to see him because he was a legend and is now legendary.
The million worthless paper cuts who bled him dry his whole life.
And you mourn for the loss of the life he could have had and for the lack of life most now have.
Nothing changes. Nothing's changed.
My Primary Epitaph
Oh I want this nailed up on my grave, I do:
I was wondering why that was sounding familiar, and then I remembered. I don't remember remembering but I'm pretty sure I did because I remember thinking I should.
Somebody remind me sometime to post my list of my favourite epitaphs. All hand-made, I should point out -- none of your cheap knock-offs.
...Spike's epitaph...
"Could be worse"
I was wondering why that was sounding familiar, and then I remembered. I don't remember remembering but I'm pretty sure I did because I remember thinking I should.
Somebody remind me sometime to post my list of my favourite epitaphs. All hand-made, I should point out -- none of your cheap knock-offs.
...Spike's epitaph...
Previous post purely philosophical
I'd not nick nuffink oh no
No, I bought that.
My mam gave me that.
I was born with that.
Would you like that, ossifer? It suits you! Keep it! Looks good on him, dunnit?
No, I bought that.
My mam gave me that.
I was born with that.
Would you like that, ossifer? It suits you! Keep it! Looks good on him, dunnit?
Some bastard stole my theft!
Now THERE's a turn-up for the book
Good heavens. Apparently, *I* am belle de jour.
Hmm. Appears that's not the only stylistic overlap since her book deal, either. A plagiarism on all whores!
Two can play at that game. Specifically, THE game. On which I'll go. Just to spite her. You know I'll make cents.
(Now you know why your manager's not ringing you back, honey. You just can't compete with these legs.)
Aren't they one and the same thing?
jeudi 6 mai
Greetings, chaps and chapesses.
Hmm. Appears that's not the only stylistic overlap since her book deal, either. A plagiarism on all whores!
Two can play at that game. Specifically, THE game. On which I'll go. Just to spite her. You know I'll make cents.
(Now you know why your manager's not ringing you back, honey. You just can't compete with these legs.)
10. Je ne regrette rien.
If the textbooks are to be believed, this makes me a psychopath. If the glossy magazines are to be believed, this makes me an independent modern woman.
Aren't they one and the same thing?
Could be worse
It's not all it's cracked up to be
People think it's great that I've got no natural predators.
To which I reply:
"How would YOU like to be constantly hounded by the undead and daemon demon denizens of the fourth through eighth circles of hell?"
To which I reply:
"How would YOU like to be constantly hounded by the undead and daemon demon denizens of the fourth through eighth circles of hell?"
A fish called wonder
- Mutton:
- "Eat me."
- Not dressed Tup:
- "Eurgh! With a gammon leg?"
With apologies to all fans of Monty Python('s lifeboat sketch). Or of comedy, for that matter.
Hypocracy, noun
Social structure recognising, supporting, and rewarding hypocrites.
See also: bureaucracy, aristocracy, meritocracy, popularly-elected government
Usage: a hypocracy of politicians
Word identified in: http://www.cheekysquirrel.net/blog/archives/000991.html
See also: bureaucracy, aristocracy, meritocracy, popularly-elected government
Usage: a hypocracy of politicians
Word identified in: http://www.cheekysquirrel.net/blog/archives/000991.html
Saturday, May 15, 2004
Rare instant
Leaning back on the roof terrace with a fresh chill pint in a dimpled glass, basking in the oh so welcome sun. The jets are always surprisingly low when the clouds are gone, criss-crossing London Central as they're brought round for final approach. Heathrow is insanely busy and a very London sight is to look straight up in a clear sky and see up to a dozen fresh vapour trails criss-crossing each other in a giant temporary ever-renewed game of tic-tac-toe.
But this once a Jumbo heading west and low crosses the cloud line in a long sideways sliding streak of boil.
Great turmoiled vapour sheets springing into and out of flickering existence, chasing along with the hurtling plane, torn out of their air by the ripping bulky passage of several hundred tons of metal and humans losing height for Heathrow, a cloud fan ghost ephemerally connecting wings and tail at 200mph directly overhead. Pure water, pure cloud, shocked into existence in the screaming invisible vortices on the wings' trailing edge, no trace remaining once the plane has passed, is past.
Beautiful.
But this once a Jumbo heading west and low crosses the cloud line in a long sideways sliding streak of boil.
Great turmoiled vapour sheets springing into and out of flickering existence, chasing along with the hurtling plane, torn out of their air by the ripping bulky passage of several hundred tons of metal and humans losing height for Heathrow, a cloud fan ghost ephemerally connecting wings and tail at 200mph directly overhead. Pure water, pure cloud, shocked into existence in the screaming invisible vortices on the wings' trailing edge, no trace remaining once the plane has passed, is past.
Beautiful.
Put your feet up
Oh the sun's come out and the clouds have fled and there's the suggestion of clement weather and the risk of a lifestyle. On days like this I like to go out and find me some American tourists and sidle up beside them. Sometimes I like to frontle up, sometimes backle, but usually it's the comfort of the old traditional sidle for Sal. And wait for the next plane of the ceaseless torrent of Heathrow traffic, banking low for the passengers to see for once this huge city laid out beneath them, briefly, rarely, visible from the air without the omnipresent everpresent cloud sheath. And clutch an arm and wail "THAT'S a low-flying plane...." as my pale face turns up to the plane disappearing between the buildings. And then I toddle away, with the terrified screaming and self-absorption fading slowly with distance behind me. Ho ho. Wot fun to mess wif dere heds.
Dodge the daily charity-clingers at the station --green-vested Barnardos boys today-- past the two full-breasted puffy-bodied spray-on topped girls on the top of the steps by McDonalds flirting clumsily, obviously, happily, with two bicycle cops, the four laughing and revelling in the moment, not taking it seriously, but you never know, you never know.
The sun's streaming down, painting everything brighter, more colourful.
Even the concrete's somehow greyer.
Swing down the little twisty Victorian alleyways, pound up my stairs (€1.80), knock the top off the first beer of the weekend, and put my feet up.
[THUD]
God dammit, I HAVE to remember to sit down before doing that.
Sal's shaken face appears above the table as he climbs unsteadily back up, sources pen and paper with professional flair, writes Note To Self:
"sit down before doing that"
A moment's reflection (adjusts hair). Underlines "sit" and "down". Also, "before", "that", and "doing". Staples note to forehead for safety's sake. Argh! Argh! I've gone blind! I've gone bli... A welcome breeze ruffles the note and all is clear. The scales have fallen from my eyes (silly place to put them, really. People keep standing on your head and moaning about their weight. You're moaning about your weight? You're moaning?! *I'm* the one with all these fat people standing on me head), as has the note. Phew. I can see again. I can relax.
[THUD]
Dammit! DAMMIT!! Why didn't I warn me? If I hadn't landed on this note I might have hurt myself. That was pretty lucky actually. Hey, what's it say? Ohhhh... this is GOOD, that's good advice.
I should put it somewhere obvious to remind me.
Argh! Argh! I've gone blind!
Dodge the daily charity-clingers at the station --green-vested Barnardos boys today-- past the two full-breasted puffy-bodied spray-on topped girls on the top of the steps by McDonalds flirting clumsily, obviously, happily, with two bicycle cops, the four laughing and revelling in the moment, not taking it seriously, but you never know, you never know.
The sun's streaming down, painting everything brighter, more colourful.
Even the concrete's somehow greyer.
Swing down the little twisty Victorian alleyways, pound up my stairs (€1.80), knock the top off the first beer of the weekend, and put my feet up.
[THUD]
God dammit, I HAVE to remember to sit down before doing that.
Sal's shaken face appears above the table as he climbs unsteadily back up, sources pen and paper with professional flair, writes Note To Self:
"sit down before doing that"
A moment's reflection (adjusts hair). Underlines "sit" and "down". Also, "before", "that", and "doing". Staples note to forehead for safety's sake. Argh! Argh! I've gone blind! I've gone bli... A welcome breeze ruffles the note and all is clear. The scales have fallen from my eyes (silly place to put them, really. People keep standing on your head and moaning about their weight. You're moaning about your weight? You're moaning?! *I'm* the one with all these fat people standing on me head), as has the note. Phew. I can see again. I can relax.
[THUD]
Dammit! DAMMIT!! Why didn't I warn me? If I hadn't landed on this note I might have hurt myself. That was pretty lucky actually. Hey, what's it say? Ohhhh... this is GOOD, that's good advice.
I should put it somewhere obvious to remind me.
Argh! Argh! I've gone blind!
Blameless, haha
To all the irate bloggers roaring into this site today with blood in their eye and mouse squeaking for mercy in their impassioned grip, bellowing:
"Where IS he?! Where is that little commenty bastard?! Leaving vague rambling maudlin crappy screeds all over my comment boxes last night, that go on and on and on, filling them up with crap, irrelevancies, rants, ravings, incoherencies, argh!! I'm going to kick his commenty little arse! [foam] [squeak]";
I simply direct your attention to THIS.
Mwu ha ha ha haarrrrrrr! I blithely shrug off your outrage, step smartly free of the shower of futile vitriol. An ounce of preparation, lads & lasses -- forethought is all. I am now untouchable, blameless, I got my craven irresponsibility in early. Mwu ha ha ha haaarrrrrr [fades]
"Where IS he?! Where is that little commenty bastard?! Leaving vague rambling maudlin crappy screeds all over my comment boxes last night, that go on and on and on, filling them up with crap, irrelevancies, rants, ravings, incoherencies, argh!! I'm going to kick his commenty little arse! [foam] [squeak]";
I simply direct your attention to THIS.
Mwu ha ha ha haarrrrrrr! I blithely shrug off your outrage, step smartly free of the shower of futile vitriol. An ounce of preparation, lads & lasses -- forethought is all. I am now untouchable, blameless, I got my craven irresponsibility in early. Mwu ha ha ha haaarrrrrr [fades]
Tempus Fugoff
There just aren't enough hours in the day are there? This one's only got 22, I just checked. It's rubbish.
Friday, May 14, 2004
Yahoowhack
Meta: multi-posts?
Anyone else getting Blogger "stammers" today? The last post duplicated, an earlier one appeared 11 times.
EDIT: heh. is someone taking the piss? this post replicated out to ten times. think i might leave them in as a laugh
EDIT: heh. is someone taking the piss? this post replicated out to ten times. think i might leave them in as a laugh
Meta: multi-posts?
Anyone else getting Blogger "stammers" today? The last post duplicated, an earlier one appeared 11 times.
Meta: multi-posts?
Anyone else getting Blogger "stammers" today? The last post duplicated, an earlier one appeared 11 times.
Meta: multi-posts?
Anyone else getting Blogger "stammers" today? The last post duplicated, an earlier one appeared 11 times.
Meta: multi-posts?
Anyone else getting Blogger "stammers" today? The last post duplicated, an earlier one appeared 11 times.
Meta: multi-posts?
Anyone else getting Blogger "stammers" today? The last post duplicated, an earlier one appeared 11 times.
Meta: multi-posts?
Anyone else getting Blogger "stammers" today? The last post duplicated, an earlier one appeared 11 times.
Meta: multi-posts?
Anyone else getting Blogger "stammers" today? The last post duplicated, an earlier one appeared 11 times.
Meta: multi-posts?
Anyone else getting Blogger "stammers" today? The last post duplicated, an earlier one appeared 11 times.
Meta: multi-posts?
Anyone else getting Blogger "stammers" today? The last post duplicated, an earlier one appeared 11 times.
Musical tiplets
Nice tips!
Two impressive groups I've come across recently:
Scumfrog are great jumbly bouncy rock, energetic/energising without being annoying.
And Razorlight... to my mind are freakishly good. Just freak-arse good. Dancing lilting music, hard charging yet interesting. Lyrics you don't auto-delete. I've only heard one song (choon, sorry) of theirs, so they could be one hit wonders.
But if it's "merely" an efflorescence of their talent, then you're looking at the next Prince, the next Bowie.
Two impressive groups I've come across recently:
- The Scumfrog
- Razorlight
Scumfrog are great jumbly bouncy rock, energetic/energising without being annoying.
And Razorlight... to my mind are freakishly good. Just freak-arse good. Dancing lilting music, hard charging yet interesting. Lyrics you don't auto-delete. I've only heard one song (choon, sorry) of theirs, so they could be one hit wonders.
But if it's "merely" an efflorescence of their talent, then you're looking at the next Prince, the next Bowie.
Preëmption is 9 tenths of the law
I deny everything.
[looks at bottle]
[looks at keyboard]
I would like now to pre-empt any and all e-mbarrassments which may or may not occur either on this site or on others' in and of and during and while this evening of now and imminentlike.
(bloody imminents, coming over here and stealing our jobs. i just put my job down and turn my back for a second and POW they've nicked it. thieving bastards)
I deny EVERYTHING.
[looks at bottle]
[looks at keyboard]
I would like now to pre-empt any and all e-mbarrassments which may or may not occur either on this site or on others' in and of and during and while this evening of now and imminentlike.
(bloody imminents, coming over here and stealing our jobs. i just put my job down and turn my back for a second and POW they've nicked it. thieving bastards)
I deny EVERYTHING.
Clichés
"5 o'clock!? Is that the time!?"
No, it's the temperature you adjective
No, it's the temperature you adjective
Smack mim
Ah who is this person? We need more of them, I tell you, more of them.
You know it makes sense. Unlike me. Go on, I dare you: unlike me.
<Tsk> The link doesn't display properly. Should go to this:
If I ever refer to myself in the third person, then please just come and smack him.
You know it makes sense. Unlike me. Go on, I dare you: unlike me.
<Tsk> The link doesn't display properly. Should go to this:
If I ever refer to myself in the third person, then please just come and smack him.
Unparalleled lines in Nutgroist's stage adaption of "Crossroads", in which he plays all parts, including the motel.
Do not pass Go. Do not collect £200. Go directly to "Jail", the new one-man show from Slough's other Nutgroist, Nutgroist.
Shit your pants to see Nutgroist in his new one man show "In Cities, In Countries, In Continents"
He had me rolling in the aisles - Howard "Drugs" Marks
He had me rolling in the Isles - Mick "The Rolling Stones" Jagger
Men of England - Cut your wife's cock off and take her immediately to see Nutgroist in his new "one-man or is he?" stage adaption of Germaine Greer's classic Victorian potboiler "The Female Eunuch"
Cut your legs off above the knee, steal a spitfire and divebomb the Theate Royal to get in to see Nutgroist's new sold-out "The Douglas Bader Revue Show"
Set the video
Next Wednesday, 11:50pm:
Screamers: (1995) Knife-wielding mechanical creatures block peace talks on a 21st century planet ravaged by nuclear war.
[quiet awe]
Screamers: (1995) Knife-wielding mechanical creatures block peace talks on a 21st century planet ravaged by nuclear war.
[quiet awe]
Share the joy
this elicited laughter (TEL!!)
Doctor Lucid :
I'm not going to comment on the use of smileys.
But if I did, I'd say how they make me want to boke up all my internal organs into a big bloody heap and then stub a cigarette out in the middle of them.
Brock :
You stay sat on that fence, Doc.
Doctor Lucid :
I'm not going to comment on the use of smileys.
But if I did, I'd say how they make me want to boke up all my internal organs into a big bloody heap and then stub a cigarette out in the middle of them.
Brock :
You stay sat on that fence, Doc.
What a good post
Wasn't that a good post? What a great post. Lashings of value, loadings of insight. Powerful. Driving. I laughed; I cried; it became a part of me. And, I hope, a part of you. A good part. A part you'll linger over, that you'll come back to in years to come, decades from now, children from now, to touch again with a tear in your eye and softly whisper: "I remember when..."
Good post. Nice post. Oh aren't YOU a good little post? What a GOOD little post. Here, this is for you. Ooo you like your tummy scratched don't you, oh DON'T you like your little tummy scratched, ooooo. Good post. Goo-ooood post. Ooo AREN'T you a good little post. Ooo yoo warr a WUVWY wickle post isn't oo. Oh. Oh! Ick. Ewww! All over the floor, too. Does this post belong to anyone? Hello? Hello-oo?? Whose post is this?
Good post. Nice post. Oh aren't YOU a good little post? What a GOOD little post. Here, this is for you. Ooo you like your tummy scratched don't you, oh DON'T you like your little tummy scratched, ooooo. Good post. Goo-ooood post. Ooo AREN'T you a good little post. Ooo yoo warr a WUVWY wickle post isn't oo. Oh. Oh! Ick. Ewww! All over the floor, too. Does this post belong to anyone? Hello? Hello-oo?? Whose post is this?
Ow
Magic
My flatmates have discovered these fantastic magical icecube trays. They're incredible: you can just pop the icecubes out, stick the half-empty tray back in the freezer, and it just magically fills itself back up! Apparently.
Thursday, May 13, 2004
I don't take this sort of thing too seriously... but still...
According to my biorhythms, today I should [squints] "spend less time distracting myself with irrelevancies and more time getting on with what I'm supposed to be doing."
Wow. These things are pretty good, aren't they?
Wow. These things are pretty good, aren't they?
Brain break
WarHead :
No thanks. Anything that reminds me of Unix gives me the heeby-jeebies.
Saltation :
hang on. c# reminds you of unix?
WarHead :
Noooo - I had a look at your doc, but before that there was 'grep' as well.
Saltation :
ar
WarHead :
I will not be drawn further in to this - I left it all behind a long time ago.
Saltation :
you wish. there's actually still bits of it stuck to your shoe.
WarHead :
Nonsense - we got rid of our Unix servers years ago.
Saltation :
ahh, but it's your unix MASTERS you should be a-feared of
they lurk yet, in the misty dim underworld just inches away in another dimension, laughing metallically as we dance to their impersonal commands, their claws and puppet strings reaching and fastening to your flesh no matter how far you run. grand master gates is no protection, no protection at all from their evil, their brutal vowelless onlinehelpless evil. ohhhh.... the blinkenlights the blinkenlights.
Brock :
What the FUCK are you lot on about?
:/
No thanks. Anything that reminds me of Unix gives me the heeby-jeebies.
Saltation :
# hbjb $USER
Comfortzone not found.
Try -r Revulsion flag.
#
hang on. c# reminds you of unix?
WarHead :
Noooo - I had a look at your doc, but before that there was 'grep' as well.
Saltation :
ar
WarHead :
I will not be drawn further in to this - I left it all behind a long time ago.
Saltation :
you wish. there's actually still bits of it stuck to your shoe.
WarHead :
Nonsense - we got rid of our Unix servers years ago.
Saltation :
ahh, but it's your unix MASTERS you should be a-feared of
they lurk yet, in the misty dim underworld just inches away in another dimension, laughing metallically as we dance to their impersonal commands, their claws and puppet strings reaching and fastening to your flesh no matter how far you run. grand master gates is no protection, no protection at all from their evil, their brutal vowelless onlinehelpless evil. ohhhh.... the blinkenlights the blinkenlights.
cat $USER | sed s/soul// | unix_master.kext > /dev/il 2>|paste howl.aif >/dev/audio
Brock :
What the FUCK are you lot on about?
:/
Transparent
No result? That'd be me, then
Hey, I'm a googlewhack. Discovered by some german chap.
Google on "clickthru opacity c#"
[waves small flag, toots squeaky plastic horn while adjusting party hat]
woot
Google on "clickthru opacity c#"
[waves small flag, toots squeaky plastic horn while adjusting party hat]
woot
It spellchecks fine, I dont see what you're going on about
An exiting opportunity has opened up in this large organisation
Oh goody. Here's my chance to leave.
You win
Speaking to a chap who spent a similar amount of time in a similar situation before finally finding a gap in the HR departments' defences. Non-standard CV = auto-reject.
He has an example which beats any of mine for the sheer crystallity of it, needing NO background knowledge to realise its glory.
He received two response letters from the one HR person for the same job. One rejected him for being overqualified. The other rejected for being underqualified.
He still has them. I said he should have them framed and on his wall behind his desk.
He has an example which beats any of mine for the sheer crystallity of it, needing NO background knowledge to realise its glory.
He received two response letters from the one HR person for the same job. One rejected him for being overqualified. The other rejected for being underqualified.
He still has them. I said he should have them framed and on his wall behind his desk.
Wednesday, May 12, 2004
Existential crisis time again
Ah to be young again, filled with energy and bounce and no fucking idea what's going on but absolutely sure that someone else DOES and that everyone is having more fun than you. Kinda weird to think that at her age I was in second year of uni, but that's Europe for you -- 18 year olds at school.
Bit of a hormone-angst session happening with the girl who recently sent me this little hilarity:
And before you laugh at her English, consider that she taught herself to speak it (mostly by watching English-language TV) and her native tongue is one alien to all the European languages-- they don't even have words for He or She, just It.
End of exams and alcohol and a very cyclical climate that's lurching explosively from 20 below zero into sun and blue skies and green, surrounded by some of the most beautiful people on earth. This SMS suddenly pops up in my London pocket:
Ask for a threesome!
The answer is, there IS no answer. So ask it back: Why NOT? and go off and have a nice cup of tea while it sits there stressing out. Really. Big hug, [Sal].
Bit of a hormone-angst session happening with the girl who recently sent me this little hilarity:
Finally i can send texts again :) i havent forgot you yet ;) but i have an huge problem-my vibrator got tired...even new duracells didnt help :( POO
And before you laugh at her English, consider that she taught herself to speak it (mostly by watching English-language TV) and her native tongue is one alien to all the European languages-- they don't even have words for He or She, just It.
End of exams and alcohol and a very cyclical climate that's lurching explosively from 20 below zero into sun and blue skies and green, surrounded by some of the most beautiful people on earth. This SMS suddenly pops up in my London pocket:
Its so hard to be happy when everybody around are inlove and imalone :( crap
Ask for a threesome!
Yes,yes...i hate my emotions... and love and meaning of life and questions like:why am I?
The answer is, there IS no answer. So ask it back: Why NOT? and go off and have a nice cup of tea while it sits there stressing out. Really. Big hug, [Sal].
Your texts always cheere me up :) thanks. [remainder redacted]
Predictive Text, my arse
I want a new phone. This one's SMS dictionary doesn't have "threesome" in it. What good is that?
Ob-Blogger-Blog
Since every man and his blog seems to be weighing in and whining out about the horrors of blogger's new web interface (introduced the other night), and I need something to talk about to get me started again and this is a dog-simple one, I thought I might as well too.
My first gut-reaction to the visual design:
It looks like someone threw My Little Pony very hard at a wall.
Overall, despite the candy-for-six-year-olds graphic theme/colourway that makes me feel like a paedophile as I use the site, the new blogger is a distinct improvement over the old. The instigators/executors are to be congratulated. Sort the minor text-box bugs and lose the irritating feedback mechanism for publishing, and they've got a winner. Well done, chaps.
NOW,
what we want NEXT is a choice of blogger Skins....
1/ My Little Pony
2/ Almost anything else, please god
Sign my comment box petition if you agree or just have several spare seconds and electrons you are willing to waste. When we have sufficient response, I'll take the box to blogger and electrocute them until they see the light (leaping from their fingers).
Friday, May 07, 2004
BadgerPhone!
I'm assuming everyone has had this gem in their playlists for many a moon: BadgerBadgerBadger. If not, [shakes head slowly, lips pursed grimly] you poor poor pitiful sadly undudely sad sad wretch. Add it now. It's as good a day-starter as a hard cup of coffee.
But now...
We have...
...the next generation! (3B?)
yes, it's the: badgerphone!
it's bananular! it's interactiv-odular! swing it, baby: everybody DANCE!
(get your badgerphone ringtones here: http://www.lemonizer.com/banana/)
there is just no substitute for a good badgering, is there
ring ring ring ring ring ring, bananaphone! oh the shades of ying tong, i tell you! oh, a ring ring ring ring ring ring, bananaphone! a-ring ring ring ring ring ring, bananapho-ooonnne! You know, I really wish those people would stop hammering on the door, it is becoming quite irritating. oh, a ring ring ring ring ring ring, bananaphone!
But now...
We have...
...the next generation! (3B?)
yes, it's the: badgerphone!
it's bananular! it's interactiv-odular! swing it, baby: everybody DANCE!
(get your badgerphone ringtones here: http://www.lemonizer.com/banana/)
there is just no substitute for a good badgering, is there
ring ring ring ring ring ring, bananaphone! oh the shades of ying tong, i tell you! oh, a ring ring ring ring ring ring, bananaphone! a-ring ring ring ring ring ring, bananapho-ooonnne! You know, I really wish those people would stop hammering on the door, it is becoming quite irritating. oh, a ring ring ring ring ring ring, bananaphone!
Nicked quote, lightly tweaked
Life is NOT a journey to the grave with the goal of arriving safely in a prettily preserved body, but rather to skid in sideways in a shower of gravel and party shards, thoroughly used, utterly exhausted, and loudly proclaiming: "Fuck ME, that was BRILLIANT!"
Laundry is not interesting
My underpants have run out again.
I think in future I should either buy slower underpants or fasten my existing ones more securely.
I think in future I should either buy slower underpants or fasten my existing ones more securely.
Part Qualified Accountant Wanted
They didn't specify WHICH part though, so I have sent them my leg and hope for the best.
eBay-king up is so very hard to do
blog for sale on ebay
15.3 million hits and counting. Sex sells. (mine today: uh... 2. I accidentally hit Refresh)
15.3 million hits and counting. Sex sells. (mine today: uh... 2. I accidentally hit Refresh)
I gotta say it did make me feel very pretty. So if it can make me feel pretty, it can make you feel pretty. [...]
Though, after looking at the pictures, I thought it made me look fat. [...]
this is ... the first time I’ve been inside something feminine that didn’t nag me to take out the garbage.
Thursday, May 06, 2004
Just do it
Don't think about it, just do it.
two fried yes pleases and a fesh brewed mug of that's just what i needed
grilled leg of egg on a bed of roast toast
i'll have a lofty vantage point and my wife will have the same. well done please, thanks, well done. well done.
can i have one undetected murder and a thousand sleepless nights please
can i have the boiled victory in europe with cold war to follow
The badge is more important than the man
And here's a good example why you need to be extraordinarly paranoid about who you invest your savings with.
[email exchange with referee enquiring why he hadn't been contacted]
Couldn't have put it better myself.
[email exchange with referee enquiring why he hadn't been contacted]
Subject: update
finally connected with the agent+client combined.
from shortlist of 10 the client brought in only 5 for interview. for "technology analyst" they asked to see only network engineers and mgrs of IT support. i shit you not. 2 weeks worth of knowledge, to be advising 300m£
breathtaking confusion of ideas
so
dead unless they pass on the 5. even the agency disagrees with them and so will put me forward again at that point
what a loada cock.
Couldn't have put it better myself.
Just got home
That IS a long walk
Turns out, all my concerns were unnecessary.
P. wasn't there. Might not ever be again.
Her body was there, and her face, and she ran around a lot.
But P. wasn't there.
Might not ever be again.
Turns out, all my concerns were unnecessary.
P. wasn't there. Might not ever be again.
Her body was there, and her face, and she ran around a lot.
But P. wasn't there.
Might not ever be again.
Wednesday, May 05, 2004
Bad Thursday (very delayed)
Invited to a dinner by the girl whose previous dinner triggered some major stress. I was in full lyrical mode at the time and I posted some aspects of the background but ran out of time/energy before completing this one.
And then I was too close to the end-game, too much stress to be able to sit down and with a free mind complete the description of the evening.
There was much music in the post-in-my-head and I wanted it done justice.
But time and life moves on. I'd like at least this fragment to see the light of day.
...
TIME
pencils down
i go now
i may come back, over time, and tidy this up
this post may drift in and out of the blog
i have no idea what i will do tonight
And then I was too close to the end-game, too much stress to be able to sit down and with a free mind complete the description of the evening.
There was much music in the post-in-my-head and I wanted it done justice.
But time and life moves on. I'd like at least this fragment to see the light of day.
...
TIME
pencils down
i go now
i may come back, over time, and tidy this up
this post may drift in and out of the blog
i have no idea what i will do tonight
Great Crested Paparazzi, Batman!!
this is too funny to sit in a comments box
newty sal going for a little pondy stroll, and then...
"Eh? Is there somebody th..."
[FLASH!]
"WHATTHEFUCKWASTHATTTT????"
newty sal going for a little pondy stroll, and then...
"Eh? Is there somebody th..."
[FLASH!]
"WHATTHEFUCKWASTHATTTT????"
Monday, May 03, 2004
Black is the new t
for those of you not in the know (which, lets face it, is approximately the population of the earth), i have been experimenting since thursday with rejecting my human existence and sampling life as a newt.
its still a trial sort of thing, but so far i'm impressed
the frills are great.
these groovy sticky splayedy feet are great.
also, this whole business of lying around naked in ponds going splapsplap: i've tried it, i like it, i'm all for it.
and i'm SO pleased with the weather. for this whole 3-day bank holiday weekend, it's been just perfect for us newts. lots of clouds and rain keeping my pond nice and full, and steppy-on-me-type-people inside and well away from me, and then brief glittery moments like right now, where the sun beams full bright upon my glistening newty shiny black skin. glistenglisten. look at it go. glistenglisten. oh you so want it. it's so smooth, and sleek, and glisteny. it looks so good. and it tastes so good too. glistenglisten. AND if you lick it, it'll make you hallucinate like a toad's skin does. no, really. yeah, sure, if you like. go ahead. just pick me up and... that's it. wooAAHHhoo. see what I mean? oh, not working yet. oh well, try again. wooAAHHHooohhhh yeahhhhhh. again. ohhhh yeaaahhhhhh. still nothing? you must not be doing it right. try agaoooohhhhhhh yeahhhhhhhh. keep going. ooohhhhhh yeeeeaahhhhhhh. lick it baby, lick my little newty bod. ooohhhhhh yeeeeaahhhhhhh
oh yes indeedy
i LIKE being a newt
splapsplap
from this post's comment-box:
---------
Thursday, 29 April 2004 - 9:24 AM BST
Name: Saltation
Home Page: http://go-blog-go.blogspot.com
E-Mail: saltatoin@fastmail.fm
I do the same. I hate it. You end up only coming across as a non-loon when you're completely disinterested. Works in normal face2face chatups too.
So you end up only pulling people you're not interested in.
And the ones you're interested in end up with people who're not interested in THEM.
Being a human sucks.
For the rest of this week, I am going to experiment with being a newt.
They always look happy, splapping around in their little ponds and things.
And they've got that whole frilled thing going on.
On the downside, there's the risk people could get the impression my sexuality's maybe a bit... amphibious.
---------
Friday, 30 April 2004 - 7:41 PM BST
Name: Saltation
Home Page: http://why do i suddenly have to retype this each time i comment?
E-Mail: it's getting annoying
> For the rest of this week, I am going to experiment with being a newt.
so far, so good
[splap]
its still a trial sort of thing, but so far i'm impressed
the frills are great.
these groovy sticky splayedy feet are great.
also, this whole business of lying around naked in ponds going splapsplap: i've tried it, i like it, i'm all for it.
and i'm SO pleased with the weather. for this whole 3-day bank holiday weekend, it's been just perfect for us newts. lots of clouds and rain keeping my pond nice and full, and steppy-on-me-type-people inside and well away from me, and then brief glittery moments like right now, where the sun beams full bright upon my glistening newty shiny black skin. glistenglisten. look at it go. glistenglisten. oh you so want it. it's so smooth, and sleek, and glisteny. it looks so good. and it tastes so good too. glistenglisten. AND if you lick it, it'll make you hallucinate like a toad's skin does. no, really. yeah, sure, if you like. go ahead. just pick me up and... that's it. wooAAHHhoo. see what I mean? oh, not working yet. oh well, try again. wooAAHHHooohhhh yeahhhhhh. again. ohhhh yeaaahhhhhh. still nothing? you must not be doing it right. try agaoooohhhhhhh yeahhhhhhhh. keep going. ooohhhhhh yeeeeaahhhhhhh. lick it baby, lick my little newty bod. ooohhhhhh yeeeeaahhhhhhh
oh yes indeedy
i LIKE being a newt
splapsplap
Thematic similarities
There's an interesting article recently, while I think of it, (by Abdal Hakim Murad, Muslim chaplain (sic) at Cambridge University) pointing out that the overriding theme of Mohammed's instructions and teachings are directed at Reducing Ego.
I found this a fascinating insight.
There's another leading religion's leading prophet whose surviving gospels, the subset nowadays regarded as the whole New Testament, could be similarly boiled down to Reducing Nastiness.
And given that the carpenter's kid got nailed to a tree for the unforgivable sacrilege against Human Nature of saying it was OK to be nice to one another, I think Mohammed should consider himself bloody lucky he escaped with little more than some whimsical persecution and a spot of community service. Oh, and happy birthday for yesterday too mate.
"The hope is in God, and the fear is of the ego."
"Radical Muslim...conspiracy theories indulged in by many of our people are a secular intrusion into Muslim thinking. The ego tells us to blame others, when the scriptures insist that we have only ourselves to blame."
I found this a fascinating insight.
There's another leading religion's leading prophet whose surviving gospels, the subset nowadays regarded as the whole New Testament, could be similarly boiled down to Reducing Nastiness.
And given that the carpenter's kid got nailed to a tree for the unforgivable sacrilege against Human Nature of saying it was OK to be nice to one another, I think Mohammed should consider himself bloody lucky he escaped with little more than some whimsical persecution and a spot of community service. Oh, and happy birthday for yesterday too mate.
Everyone likes a good fight
Everyone likes the good fight
Only the good fight young
From: http://www.detnews.com/2004/editorial/0405/01/d04-138974.htm
It irritates/worries me that so many people, not just Americans, do not realise that the gods of the Jewish, the various Islamic, and the various Christian churches are the same god. These sects' religions (as distinct from their churches/priestly classes) differ primarily in their choice/recognition of prophet.
Not many people know, for instance, that Mohammed initially commanded all his followers to pray to Jerusalem and Mecca alternately. It was only after he got tired of his unification overtures being rejected that he removed Jerusalem from the list of holiest of holy cities and forbade praying towards it.
Strange how things work out, isn't it.
To broadcast that Allah is God on a loudspeaker five times a day is, to many of us, an incredible sacrilege.
William Miller
It irritates/worries me that so many people, not just Americans, do not realise that the gods of the Jewish, the various Islamic, and the various Christian churches are the same god. These sects' religions (as distinct from their churches/priestly classes) differ primarily in their choice/recognition of prophet.
Not many people know, for instance, that Mohammed initially commanded all his followers to pray to Jerusalem and Mecca alternately. It was only after he got tired of his unification overtures being rejected that he removed Jerusalem from the list of holiest of holy cities and forbade praying towards it.
Strange how things work out, isn't it.
Sunday, May 02, 2004
Headline News
Headline covering the front of Thursday's Times newspaper:
He does a bit, doesn't he.
"I'll go on and on" : Blair
He does a bit, doesn't he.
Funny
I'm in a funny mood today.
You'd think that'd mean a lot of hopping around clutching my ribs and going "ho ho ho."
But it doesn't.
It's funny.
I'm in a funny mood today.
You'd think that'd mean a lot of hopping around clutching my ribs and going "ho ho ho."
But it doesn't.
It's funny.
I'm in a funny mood today.
Curses
I was very sorry to read today that Rossi and his teammate Checa have both qualified in the top 3 for today's Spanish Grand Prix, Rossi with a record time.
Why sorry?
Because it devalues his achievement at the last race. It is not the personal triumph he wanted, we all wanted: to change to a substantially less competitive machine and still win. Yamaha have been very much the second-rate machine for the last couple of years, with Honda's phenomenal V5 sweeping all before it, or rather behind it. And many people have started to wonder whether Rossi's dominance has had less to do with a genuine skill advantage and more to do with always having the best bike on the track.
Rossi deliberately switched teams this year to the seriously second-rate Yamaha (in state-of-the-art GP terms: everything's relative) to let him challenge these critics. If he could race a sub-standard bike and still win, the critics have no answer: it is the man, not the bike.
Yamaha have been making noises about their new 2004 bikes being substantially better, and for Checa to go from being an excellent but not dominant rider habitually ranking in the first half of the field to suddenly appear on the front row of the grid implies they were right. Rossi's foaming adulation of the bike in interviews yesterday further confirms this.
The new Yamaha is better than the current Hondas.
Rossi entered this season with the primary objective of proving that it's his skill that's kept him at the top, not the superior machinery he's always ridden. His entire season's hoped-for vindication is now an impossibility.
His win last race means nothing special.
His entire season can mean nothing special.
And that is such a shame.
Why sorry?
Because it devalues his achievement at the last race. It is not the personal triumph he wanted, we all wanted: to change to a substantially less competitive machine and still win. Yamaha have been very much the second-rate machine for the last couple of years, with Honda's phenomenal V5 sweeping all before it, or rather behind it. And many people have started to wonder whether Rossi's dominance has had less to do with a genuine skill advantage and more to do with always having the best bike on the track.
Rossi deliberately switched teams this year to the seriously second-rate Yamaha (in state-of-the-art GP terms: everything's relative) to let him challenge these critics. If he could race a sub-standard bike and still win, the critics have no answer: it is the man, not the bike.
Yamaha have been making noises about their new 2004 bikes being substantially better, and for Checa to go from being an excellent but not dominant rider habitually ranking in the first half of the field to suddenly appear on the front row of the grid implies they were right. Rossi's foaming adulation of the bike in interviews yesterday further confirms this.
The new Yamaha is better than the current Hondas.
Rossi entered this season with the primary objective of proving that it's his skill that's kept him at the top, not the superior machinery he's always ridden. His entire season's hoped-for vindication is now an impossibility.
His win last race means nothing special.
His entire season can mean nothing special.
And that is such a shame.
Saturday, May 01, 2004
EUw
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